Indecent Arrangements: Tabloid Affair, Secretly Pregnant!

She headed up the first flight, acting as though his observation hadn’t struck a nerve. It was okay. He wasn’t entirely off-base, just about twelve months too late.

“I moved in last year.” A few weeks after her father passed away. She couldn’t stand to live in the apartment he’d been renting for her—let alone afford it. And when she’d found this…well, it suited her.

Catching up, Nate grunted something unintelligible and she decided not to ask. She’d been hoping he’d see the building and understand she was supporting herself. Maybe respect her autonomy. But it didn’t matter. He’d see soon enough she’d made herself a home.

Nate rounded the third landing working through the reasons why Payton Liss would live in an apartment like this. Real estate speculation? She’d bought the building and was living-in while she worked a refurb of some sort. But where was the telltale smell of construction? And why the third floor apartment and the hallway reeking of ethnic cuisine. “Something on the stove?”

She shook her head, drawing in a deep breath. “No, that’s the Craines on two. I get hungry every time I walk past.”

The single door on the third floor stood ajar, left open from when she’d run down to let him in, and two things struck him at once. The first, single women should never leave their apartment doors open. And the second, what the hell had she been running down to the first floor for—where was the security box to screen and admit her guests? Before he could ask, she swung the door open and, smiling wide, walked in.

To a shoe box.

Not even as big as the place he’d lived with his dad.

“What is this?” he demanded, hostility welling inexplicably within him.

“This is my apartment, Nate. And stop scowling at it like it’s something you need to scrape off your shoe.”

“But what are you doing living in it?” She had money, security. It didn’t make sense.

She rounded on him with an open-mouthed expression of disbelief and maybe something worse.

He didn’t care. “Where’s the security intercom?”

“What?”

“It’s not safe to leave your apartment and come down to check the security door. How do you even know who’s out there? Someone could be waiting in the hall for you to open the door.” She was so slight, so petite, she’d never stand a chance against an attacker. His aggravation flared.

Crossing to the front windows, he checked the latches and tested the frame. Secure enough, but—

“For your information, Nate, I like it. It’s affordable, close to the school, the ‘L’ and the lakefront.”

A glimpse out the window confirmed what he already suspected: a trip to the lakefront entailed taking the pedestrian underpass below Lake Shore Drive. He turned on her. “Tell me you don’t walk over there by yourself.”

She looked as though he’d slapped her, but if she didn’t have sense enough to look out for herself, then she was going to have to put up with some pointed questions from him.

“Does Brandt even know about this?” Where the hell was her brother’s protective instinct now? Her father was gone and that prick Clint had bailed. She needed someone looking out for her now more than ever.

“Yes. Brandt knows. I’ve had him to dinner once. Though, like you, he found it lacking and he prefers to take me out.”

Found it lacking. That was for damn sure. So why hadn’t he set her up somewhere more suitable? He knew for a fact Brandt just bought some office building downtown. There was money, so why was Payton living like a pauper? Maybe dropping in on Brandt at work would shed some light on it. He could put the priority of Payton’s security into perspective for the guy.

No, forget it. Bad idea. He’d handle the situation himself. He didn’t have time to be worrying about her safety.

“You can’t live here. We’ll find another apartment this afternoon.”

Payton’s back stiffened, and those earthy warm eyes that had been looking up at him as if he were the only man in the world mere hours ago took on a glare that said he was just another jerk. “What?”

The decision made, he pulled his phone from his pocket to call up a realtor he knew. “Don’t worry about the rent.”

But then Payton was in his face, her finger jabbing into his chest. “Have you lost your mind?” she snapped. “Of all the controlling, overbearing—I’m not moving out. I chose this place so I could have my independence. I love it here.”

He stared at her, comprehension dawning, but not quickly enough to stop the next barb. “When did you become such a damn snob, Nate?”

So she was paying her own way. He knew all too well about independence. The need for it having driven him to finish school early while working a job at the same time. Anything to get far enough ahead he wouldn’t have to go back. But if she wasn’t safe, it wasn’t acceptable. “The intercom—”

“Is being replaced on Monday. And, not that it’s any of your business, but I jog at the lakefront every morning and always carry pepper spray and an emergency air horn. The crime rate in the neighborhood is particularly low, my landlord’s security precautions are high, and I don’t appreciate your steamrolling one bit.” Her arms were crossed, her breath coming fast with her frustration. But her eyes—beneath that sparking hostility he caught the glimpse of hurt and disappointment.

What was he doing?

This place was important to her and he’d stormed in and treated it like garbage. What was the matter with him? He’d taken one look, decided it didn’t fit his idea of what Payton’s life should be like and flown off the handle in what he could only explain as an overprotective, testosterone-driven mania.

“I’m being an ass. There’s nothing wrong with your apartment.” In fact, as he adjusted his perspective, he couldn’t see anything wrong with it at all. It wasn’t brand-new or extravagant, but it was clean. Neat. Cozy. The view was attractive, the light good. The design was old Chicago, with attractive molding and high ceilings throughout. Crystal-knob fixtures and etched-glass transoms. A brick hearth. Hardwood floors. The apartment was attractive. The furniture tasteful and conservative. Homey.

He simply hadn’t expected to find Payton Liss living here. And for some reason, it irritated him that she did.

Arms still crossed, she shifted her weight from one hip to the other. Blew out a breath that sent a stray curl momentarily adrift, and then moved over to the couch and plopped down into the cushions. “You weren’t much worse than Brandt. So, I suppose I’ll have to forgive you.”

Wow, not much worse than Brandt. He needed to spend more time with his dad if he’d become that much of a snob.

Nate glanced over to where she’d leaned into the cushioned armrest. An open paperback lay atop the coffee table beside her and a cup of tea that looked as though it had gone cool some time ago. He dropped into the opposite corner. It was comfortable. Good to be sitting with her. Only…He reached across and pulled Payton into him, tucking her under his shoulder, adjusting her just so as she laughed, not bothering to protest at all.

“Oh, yeah, that’s it.” Nice.

How many times had they sat like this as kids, watching TV, talking, joking around? How many times had he thought about it while wondering why another woman didn’t fit quite as well? Payton was small boned and delicate, with all those sweet soft spots that made her fit just right.

After a minute of enjoying the familiarity, he rubbed a hand over her shoulder and leaned back to look at her. “I’m not trying to be insulting, but I’ve got to ask. What about your father’s estate? I mean, the Lisses are wealthy.”

She plucked a bit at the hem of her shirt before answering. “Honestly, my family is very generous and my mother would probably love to finance my every expenditure, but that kind of dependence comes with too many strings. I earn my own salary and…now that my father is gone, I prefer to pay my own way.”

Ah-h-h. There it was. The mention of her father with the accompanying wince to go along. The visible twinge of guilt as though the admission that she was going against his wishes still pained her.

And yet she was doing it anyway. Changing her life.

With no rescue necessary, all he had to offer was the gentle squeeze of his hand over her shoulder. The quiet communication that he understood. And maybe a confidence of his own.

“We’ve got a date Tuesday night to stir up more press and gossip, but today’s beautiful. What do you say we take a ride somewhere and talk?” Payton deserved to know what had spurred this whole fiasco. “Head down to the Dunes? We can work out the game plan for the month. Pace it out. And maybe just catch up some, too.”

Her smile lit up the room. “Let me grab a sweater.”

Chapter Eight

BENEATH the late September sky, Nate cut through the side streets, heading for Lake Shore Drive. Payton sat snuggled beside him in the sleek silver convertible, face tipped to catch the warm sunshine washing the city in an amber glow. The cold snap of a few days before coupled with the strong winds had blown half the autumn leaves from their trees in one quick drop. The result was a glorious quilt of toasted hues, alive with the wind, surging in swells and chasing the car in spirals of rusts and golds.

It was beautiful.

Nate grinned beside her. “Fall still your favorite time of year?”